Rating: PG for innuendo
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: Dark Angel is the property of James Cameron and Charles Eglee. The author claims no ownership and will not profit from this work. It is purely for entertainment. Please, do not steal any original aspects of this story, as they are as precious to me as my own children. Constructive criticism is a wonderful thing, as I would love to go pro. Thank you for your time.
A World Apart
By Anna McLain
Set early in the first season.
^j^
The gentle swish of the silk hem from her dress brushing against oak floorboards filled the air, almost drowning out the dulcet tones of Grover Washington Jr. She closed her eyes and let the sounds and feelings carry her away; the soft creak of the tires on his wheelchair moving back and forth, the heat radiating from his chest and biceps to warm her bare shoulders and arms. She rested her head on his shoulder, feeling the fluid motion of his muscles as he moved the chair in slow circles. They danced, he in the wheelchair, her on his lap.
For a moment, the world slipped away. No one was chasing her. There was no crime to be stopped. There were no packages to be delivered. No one yelled. No one fought. She was just a woman in the arms of a man. The two of them existed in a world apart.
The whiskers on his chin were soft against her forehead. She inhaled deeply the scent of him, like cinnamon and apples and the ground after a refreshing rain. It was unique to him. It pleased her and somehow seemed right. Gently, she rubbed his back with one hand, enjoying the rough material of his shirt against her palm.
They coasted to a stop. She leaned away to look up into his blue eyes, questioning. He smiled, his expression soft and loving. With one hand, he caressed her chin, pulling her closer.
The kiss was exhilarating, tender, and forgiving. She let herself fall into it. It was passionate without being wild. Accepting, not demanding. She pulled her knees up further toward his chest. He slipped one arm under her legs and held her close.
Then her pager went off.
Max sat up quickly, disoriented. The pager beeped again in the still darkness. She snapped it off with a curse. It had been a busy day at Jam Pony, but she hadn't expected to drift off to sleep. What was happening to her stamina? She wasn't supposed to fall asleep, particularly in the daytime. All of Manticore's children required little sleep.
She glanced at the clock: 7p.m. Logan was probably paging her to find out why she stood him up for dinner. She jumped up, fumbled for her clothes and changed quickly. He had said it was a special occasion and not to miss it. She had set a dress in preparation, before lying down to relax. Now she was late. Poor guy. As far as she knew, he seldom even saw another woman, since that day with his ex-wife. She was as close to a date as he came.
*^^*
She took the quickest route up to his penthouse. The aroma of roasting duck filled the foyer. Berating herself again for dozing off, she rang the bell. He didn't answer. She put a hand on her rumbling stomach to still the dancing butterflies. After that dream, she wasn't sure she could face him without acting like a fool. After that dream, she wasn't sure she could face him at all, particularly if he was angry because she was late. Strange, a revved up super soldier afraid of a man in a wheelchair.
She opened the door slowly, peeking around to be sure she wouldn't hit him. He was nowhere in sight.
The wooden floorboards creaked softly under her feet as she padded down the hall toward the kitchen. Strains of sentimental music drifted through the apartment, echoing slightly. Amber light flickered, spilling into the hallway.
She found him in the candlelit dining room, staring out the window at the half-abandoned skyline. He sat there often, as if staring at the past or at something she couldn't see. Sometimes, she wondered what he saw when he studied the derelict buildings, abandoned after the Pulse left 95 percent of the U.S. destitute. Scattered lights heralded the buildings brought back to life a few years after the Pulse. She supposed he found it sad or disturbing.
He was nearly a decade older than she was. He remembered a world she could only read about. He went to high school, trick-or-treating and spent lazy afternoons on his parent's boat entertaining dates. He spent his childhood in a carefree world where no one saw the storm heading their way. He was 18 when the Pulse hit. She thought she caught a glimpse of regret on his face before he buried it.
His reflection in the glass glanced up at her. She grinned in apology. He smiled. Relief flooded over her. He wasn't angry after all. Now, if she could just survive the night without playing the fool.
"Dinner's ready," he said.
"Cool. Is this for Valentine's Day? I think I delivered enough chocolate today to pave the city."
He chuckled. "Yes, of course, why else would today be special?"
"Well," she said, giving him a sassy look. "Technically, tomorrow is V-Day, not today. So, if you're celebrating it must be Hacker's Day or something."
He gave her a big smile. "Close. We're celebrating early. I have a few things planned that I think you'll enjoy and I figured you'd be busy tomorrow with your friends."
"Like you're not my friend?"
"I thought you'd have plans to go with Cindy and Kendra and their dates to a club." He shrugged. "So, I claimed tonight."
She gazed at him for a moment. The images from the dream came back to her. She shivered and tried to keep her voice level, "It's yours. I had nothing up."
"Great!" He motioned for her to sit down at the table.
"Don't you want me to help?"
"I've got it all under control."
He wheeled into the kitchen.
He returned with a plate for each of them, filled with slices of rosemary roasted duck and steamed vegetables. She sniffed the tendrils of steam rising from her plate.
"Um, smells good Chef Cale."
"Wait 'til you see what comes after." He grinned and bowed his head to say Grace.
She narrowed her eyes, thinking he looked too happy. He had something up his sleeve. With her head bowed for the prayer, her gaze darted around the apartment, trying to ferret out the surprise. She settled on his face. He had the choirboy look while he prayed, enhanced by the spiked hair and unshaven cheeks. She had the urge to reach across the table and run her fingers through his hair.
Dinner went too slowly for Max. Each moment was excruciating as she waited for Logan to announce "what comes after." She'd never been one to be patient. She cleared the table quickly, unable to wait for him to carry the dishes two at a time to the sink. She finished wiping the table and tossed the dishrag into the kitchen sink from the doorway into the dining room.
When she turned, he was grinning at her.
"What?" she demanded, one hand on her hip.
He shrugged and rolled down the hall. She followed, growing a little annoyed with him. He stopped in front of the door to his large bathroom. He looked up at her expectantly.
She frowned, looking around. "What? You want me to make cee-cee?"
"Go in. There's something in there for you."
She peered at the bathroom door, surprised. "Let me guess, you got me gold-plated toilet paper."
He chuckled. "Better."
Eyes narrowed and studying his face, she opened the door slowly. The smell of honeysuckle and candle smoke wafted out and tickled her nose. She turned and stepped into the room.
It was lined with flickering candles and vases of honeysuckle blossoms. She turned, smiling in awe. "Pretty. But—"
He nodded, motioning off to her right.
She turned. Her eyebrows lifted and she let out a small gasp. The huge bathtub was filled with sparkling bubbles. She stared for a long moment, absorbing the scents and the steamy warmth of the room.
"I've never had a bubble bath."
"I suspected as much."
She shot him a coy sideways look. "So—"
"So."
"So many bubbles. Only one little me."
He raised his eyebrows and gazed at the bubbles speculatively. "I might drown."
"I know CPR."
He smiled. "It's a big step."
"I have long legs."
"I'll get my snorkel."
They shared a laugh, staring at each other, completely free of barriers.
"You're serious," Logan asked.
"Naw, just kidding. We might—"
"Regret it later?" he finished. He nodded and wheeled out of the bathroom, a small smile on his face.
Max undressed quickly and slipped into the steamy water, letting the bubbles slide like velvet across her chilled skin.
So, it wouldn't happen today. But, he was open to the possibility. She smiled, blowing the bubbles away from her face. At least, now she knew for sure.
And waiting would make it that much better.
Finis~~~